The Grimm Adventures of Sophie and Sundown
by NotMyself
Summary: Grimm Rosary Sophia Capone is a Dark-Hunter that you shouldn't mess with. Jess is the only one who can mess with her and not get himself shot. Who will be left standing after one week of chaos, danger, and past secrets, and who will fall in love?


"Come on! It's only going to be for a week, and no one else will take her in. They're transferring her in a week, only a week, and if you don't let her stay with you, it might just spell the end of the world. Sundown, do you really want that on your head?"

"Well, one thing's for sure, Nick, I sure don't want her on my couch. She's crazier than Z-now, don't get me wrong, I can handle him fine. But this one-I reckon that I leave her alone for the night and she robs me blind."

The static ran from New Orleans all the way to Reno through the phone lines, and the Squire who made the noise sure didn't sound pleased. "She kills. She doesn't rob."

"Well, then, make me fell so much better about lettin' the viper into my nest. Give her to Z. He can handle her."

"Zarek's a god now, you know that! And if I don't get someone to take her, I'm stuck with her!" Jess held his head in his hands, exasperated. Damn, now the boy was just plain whining!

"One week." He certainly was not phrasing these words as a question-One week would be his limit. After that, crazy was on her own.

"Yeah, yeah," Said Nick, sounding more annoyed than he should. "Then it's off to court for Little Miss Psychopath."

He wanted to ask, but Jess knew he shouldn't. "Who all'd she kill, anyhow?"

"Oh, no one important," Nick replied quickly, his voice high and squeaky because of the huge lie he was telling, and whatever he was trying to sell, Jess wasn't buying it. "I got to go. She'll be there tomorrow, flight C-18, 12:05 AM. Anna can cover your area until you get back, and just leave her alone at your house. She'll be fine."

"NICK!" He shouted, knowing that the damned boy had already hung up on him. Jess groaned aloud, slamming his head down on the wooden table in his kitchen, which was outfitted with no windows that could possibly let in the light he now wished, would burn him to death. A convict-what punishment was next? Circus workers? Ooh, how about Jack the Ripper? That would just totally make his day. Yee freakin' haw.

The phone rang again, a shrill buzz that vibrated the table and nearly made him jump out of his skin. He laughed at his shoddy nerves as he answered it.

"Sundown speaking."

"Hey there, sunshine!" Said the chipper voice from the other end. He recognized it as that of Anna, a young Dark-Hunter with a habit of calling him stupid pet names to make fun of his chosen name. "How are we today? Heard the con girl's coming to stay with you for a week."

"Who's this and how'd you get my number?" He said, the grim teasing something she was used to by now. Well, she should be-he'd been subjecting her to it for long enough.

"Well, my little ray of sunlight, are you answering or avoiding the question?" She said in the voice that said that she was analyzing him in the therapist/scientist way that she always did. Before her husband had murdered her by holding her head in a tub of acid in her own lab in 1946, she'd been a scientist working toward a cure for Polio, something that had crippled her youngest child. When Joey came to the lab drunk one night, claiming that he'd seen her getting their rent money in the back of a taxi cab, they'd fought until he overpowered her and dunked her face in the research, part of which happened to be Cyanide. If the poison didn't kill her, the suffocation sure as hell did.

"Yeah, if you have to know, the gal's going to stay here until they transfer her."

"Ya'll know where they're taking her, don't you?" She said, imitating his accent. He glared out his window.

"Should I care, darlin'?" He said, increasing the accent to piss her off. She sighed, regaining her natural voice to continue in a serious tone.

"They're taking the girl to Olympus. Olympus! Can you just imagine that?" She sounded dreamy and almost jealous. "I would kill, just to get a look at Olympus."

"Well, can you start with those Daimons?" Jess replied. "They're our biggest problem now. So, get going. And stop," He said with a smirk that he knew was invisible to her, "Obsessing over that damn con girl!"

"How can I not," Cried Anna, "When it's my biggest dream to go to Olympus!? That and a three-way with Orlando Bloom and Johnny Depp," She added under her breath, much to his disgust. He snorted, and moved to pick up a notebook off of the floor that had fallen from the table. "But really, be careful. The kid is an absolute psychopath-you know who she killed, right?" He shook his head, then, rethinking things, replied,

"Do you?"

"Well, duh!" She said eagerly, excited to gossip with someone, even if that someone was male. "I heard that she killed- oh, shit, I have to go. Maya just showed up, and we have an hour and a half until…Sundown." She snorted, "Sorry, but that was too good to resist."

"You've been using that line since 1954!" He groaned, and she laughed.

"I'll talk to you later, and- Maya! No! Do not touch that unless you have some odd desire to grow gills and scales!" She slammed down the phone, and Sundown knew she was gone.

His life had become monotonous, and he was becoming quickly annoyed with the cycle of ennui. Thoughts about the con girl-whatever her name was- passed through his mind, and he instantly imagined an angry, feminine version of Zarek, complete with his signature sneer and claws. And he laughed loudly as he imagined this- very loudly. Still grinning, he stood, dusted off the front of his pants, and wandered back into his bedroom, where he sunk instantly onto his king-sized bed and willed himself to sleep until nightfall.

'SING For The Moment' By Aerosmith, a song that happened to be her favorite song, echoing from somewhere on the red-eye flight woke Grimm Rosary Sophia Capone from the deep sleep she'd been in, awakening her from the hours of being curled up and softly snoring on the first-class seat that Acheron had provided oh-so kindly for her. The phone, she quickly realized, was her own, and she answered it, despite the nasty looks she attracted from the exhausted first class passengers and flight attendants, glares she returned with full-force.

"What?" She snapped impatiently. She had never been one for answering anyone, not even her own family, too very kindly.

"Grimm Capone?" A voice said. A cold voice, not even mysterious like Acheron's or immature, like Nick's-just a plain, boring voice that sounded like something that her middle school teacher would have been proud of, though she was sure it wasn't Mr. Marion.

"Mr. Marion?" She asked anyway.

"No, it's not your teacher. Do you remember me?" He lowered his crooning voice and sang the first few lines of a song that, reminded her of a time, long ago…and then she stared out the window with wide eyes, clicking the 'end' button on her phone so hard that it almost cracked. Breathing deeply and slowly as to keep from hyperventilating, she turned to the man sitting beside her, noticed the champagne he sipped from a thin, ornate glass, and then, before he could say otherwise, she dipped the phone into the drink, leaving it there as she gathered her bags.

"On behalf of all our crew here at American Airlines, I'd like to welcome you to lovely Reno, Nevada," said a cheerful voice over the loudspeaker, the plane skidded to a stop on the runway, and then a few seconds later a tall man in his late 40s with dark graying hair and a tan stepped from the cockpit, talking to a few of the passengers as they gathered their bags and prepared to depart from the still plane. December clutched the duffel bag with her possessions in it, knowing that the rest of her things were waiting for her, either with the cowboy or on Olympus. She checked her pocket for her phone, and then looked down to its smoldering remains on the seat beside her, where the businessman had fished it from his drink and left it. She picked it up, and then a moment later, a new phone formed from the wreckage like magic, twisting wires and melting metal in the palm of her hand; she set it in her pocket like nothing had happened. Like she hadn't just fixed a new phone from a dead one-and if anyone had seen her little 'trick', they'd probably ask if she could do it with money, or with the dead. In reality, she could, but she was not willing to help anyone in the world-except myself, she thought in silent correction.

"Hey, lady," Cried one of the boys who had just come from the economy seating, a boy who was twelve, at the most. "The plane's closing! Grab your stuff and come on!"

She nodded, briskly grabbed the black duffel bag with her right hand, steadied herself with her left hand, and slowly emerged from the plane out into the humidity and darkness that was Reno, Nevada, at 12:06 AM.

THREE hours later, she still waited in the terminal, her duffel bag at her feet and a grimace tight on her fine features. Where was the idiot? It had already been three hours, and the supply of coffee was running low whilst the sun was coming quickly over the horizon.

"Need a drink?" Said a voice from the coffee bar, a voice tinted with a bit of an accent that Grimm remembered well from her past. Grimm moved in her chair, turning to face a young girl, maybe 19 or 20, tanned with blond hair tied back in a pony tail and black dress suit. She smiled to Grimm, waving her over. "You look like you're waiting for someone. It's the same look you've had for about 3 hours."

"Squire?" She said warily. The young woman looked around, shook her head, and turned back to her, flashing the other girl the palm of her hand-the same black double arrow tattoo she recognized from every Dark-Hunter she ever met rested safely on its surface. "Ah."

"Anna Abington, at your service," She said with a grin, flashing small fangs at the girl who smiled back, somewhat reluctantly.

"Does he know?"

"You mean Sundown?"

"No, Elvis. Yes, I mean Sundown! Does he know?"

"About you being-"

"Yes."

"Well…"

"Well?"

"Well; Acheron never told him, so I'd say no."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Shit."

"My sentiment exactly."

"Do you know?" Grimm asked Anna, who nodded as she picked up the girl's duffel bag. Anna thought for a moment.

"Yes."

"Good," She sounded relieved, and Anna smiled again. "Now, come on. It's almost dawn and if I don't get back with you safely, I'm pretty sure Acheron will be pissed."

"Uh, that's where you're wrong. I'm driving, not you."

"What?" Grimm said in protest. "Why can't I drive?"

"Because, no offence, you're utterly psychopathic. I don't want you touching my car, let alone driving it." Grimm sighed, giving up, and Anna directed her out of the terminal, into the parking lot, and toward a parked car outside. It was a nice enough car, a cherry red Mustang in good condition, with red seats accessorized with white piping along the edges of them, giving the entire car a very retro look.

"It's my baby," Anna said fondly. "Like it? I got it in…" She paused, thinking. "I think I got it in 1952."

"Odd car, for a scientist to own," Remarked Grimm. "I'd think you'd have something like an armored car, or an SUV."

If her words about Anna's past came as a shock to Anna at all, she hid it well, shrugging nonchalantly. "It's like the first car I had, but mine was blue-and I had to share it with my brothers. I hardly got to drive it at all."

"When did your brothers die, if I may ask without seeming rude?" Anna blinked back the tears that formed against her will as she thought of her family.

"Two of my brothers, Jet and Mickey, died during World War Two-they were fighter pilots. My youngest brother, Rick, lived until the age of 50, until he died of Cancer in the early 80s. And my twin brother Eric died almost a year after I did, in a plane crash." She glanced back at Grimm, and then slipped into the seat to unlock her door while simultaneously throwing the duffel bag in the back seat. "Why do you ask?" Grimm shrugged.

"Because I'm morbid," She responded truthfully. Anna laughed, and within the moment they were leaving the airport. Grimm fiddled with the radio for a few minutes, and then remembering that none of the stations she listened to in Chicago would come into place here in Reno, left it on a soft rock station. She scratched at a cut on one of her legs as she spoke again. "So, how long did you live in Chicago?"

Anna glanced over to her, one eyebrow raised. "How'd you know?"

"Yous never lose dat accent," Grimm said, making her accent thicker and a little less easy to decode. They both laughed for about a moment, and then Grimm turned back to her, serious. "No, really. How long did you reside in the windy city?"

"My whole human life," Anna said wistfully. "What about you?"

"A long, long time," She replied truthfully.

The atmosphere became a little more awkward after this cynical response, and Anna tapped her fingers against the steering wheel, thinking to herself, hey, she's not that bad. Maybe if she escapes the death penalty on Olympus, she'd consider moving to Reno and we could be friends, not just prisoner and warden!

"So," Began Grimm, making Anna look up with a start, "Why didn't the cowboy come to pick me up? Did he forget?"

"I think so," Anna admitted. "But hey, he's got a lot on his mind right now. Don't blame him."

"Yeah…" Grimm trailed off as they passed through the city, then onto a road leading away from it. "Hey, where are we going?"

"Jess doesn't live within the city limits," She responded. "That's kind of my territory."

"Wow," Said the darker haired girl, gazing upon the large homes, fenced in with old-time railing that reminded her of something straight out of an old movie, and ranches bordering the city. "It's really-"

"Open," Supplied Anna, "Nothing like Chicago."

"Nothing like it," Agreed Grimm. "It's really pretty, though."

"I'd drive slower, but the sun is heavy over the horizon and my burning to a crisp is nothing I'd like you to see."

"Thank you for that," Said the young woman in the passenger seat as the speedometer excelled into the 100 degree mark. "And am I supposed to be his Squire while I'm here?"

"Are you asking me this because you want to know if you can jump his bones?" Grimm hid her blushing face in her knees, shaking her head so rapidly that her bangs fell into her eyes. She fixed them, and then turned back to Anna, a smile on her heart-shaped face.

"No," She said, "I'm just asking, because I've never been a squire before."

"You can replace Maya, if you want," Offered the Dark-Hunter, "She is constantly getting into my medical experiments. I've lost count of the times I've had to rush her to the emergency room."

"Thanks, but I'm sure that Acheron would rather I stay put and be a good little psychopath, no more killings or talking to strangers," Grimm said, rolling her blue eyes heavenward. Another laugh was shared, and then Anna stopped outside of a driveway.

"Oh, damn, the sun comes up in ½ an hour. Can you-"

"Walk up the driveway myself?" Grimm offered. "Yeah. I'll be fine, and get back before the sun rises!"

"No problem," Said Anna, reaching back to hand her the duffel bag. She smiled to her new friend. "Good luck!"

A smile was fixated on Grimm's face, but her mind was racing like the Indy 500 as she waved to the girl, who tore from the road quickly. She turned back, took a barrette from her hair, and jiggled it in the lock, biting down on her lip as the lock came undone in her hands. She tossed the bag over the gate, slipped through the opening, and then returned the lock to its rightful place. She sauntered up the concrete driveway, hardly noticing the tasteful landscaping, but as the sun began to rise so that the first few rays shone over the hillside, she broke out into a full-on run, darting into the shadows and out again behind trees. She hoped dearly that the door was unlocked, or the cowboy had left her a key, because if he hadn't, the consequences could be rather bad. As she rushed up the wooden steps, her footsteps echoing from behind her, she jiggled the handle for a second and then panicked. She'd left her last bobby pin at the location of the first lock, and if she didn't get in...

Seeing a wooden chair conveniently placed across the porch from her, she rushed to it and used all of her strength to smash it through the front room window. She jumped through the crashed glass, scraping her wrists and chest while diving through the jagged pieces, and then fell into the front room, which was dark because of the early dawn. Panting, she drew the curtains around the windows (there were four) and collapsed to the front room's hardwood floor.

"God Damnit, that was too close," She whispered between deep breaths.

Four seconds later and she would have been a charred, dead Dark-Hunter.

"WHAT the-" Jess looked horrified as he rushed up to his living room window-what was left of it, at least. He ran his hands through his dark hair, panicking as he stared at the shut curtains. What the hell had happened?

He took his phone from his pocket and dialed the phone number in his speed dial. Looking around the pitch black yard, he listened to the monotonous ring tone until Anna answered.

"What?" She said sleepily. "You just woke me up, moron."

"Did you break my fucking living room window?" He shouted.

"What?" She repeated again, sounding urgent. "What're you talking about, your living room window? Is it broken?"

"Obviously!" Jess shouted. "Anna, I'm real close to losing what temper I have left. What happened to my window?"

"I don't know!" She yelled. "I dropped her off at-Oh, fuck!"

"You dropped off who-" He paused. "I had to pick up the con girl, didn't I?"

"You forgot, so I picked her up and dropped her off at close to 4:00 AM!" She sounded like she was seriously scared.

"And did she go into the house through the front door or the window?" He said slowly. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks like she went through the window."

"I guess she did," Summarized Anna. "Maybe because the sun was coming out. Maybe she's used to the night life- and oh God, does my head hurt. I'm going to go back to bed. Night, Jess."

"Oh, no you don't!" He said. "You're going to take over my part of the city while I stay with her. She's probably wounded, if she jumped through a window. Hey, maybe she's dead on my living room floor." He laughed, and Anna sounded angry when she spoke again.

"Shut the hell up, Sundown!" She snapped. "You don't know her. She's nice."

"You're just saying that because you're both from Chicago, huh?"

"No." She fell silent. "Okay, I'll cover for you and you can tend to the wounds of your house guest." She hung up, leaving him alone in his front yard with a broken window and a whole lot of questions.

The home was quiet, eerily so, when Jess opened the door. He crept into the living room, seeing the smashed-in glass and the bits of red splattered across the hardwood flooring, the marks that would take a lot of cleaning to get out.

His eyes strayed to the bits of red color that had been smeared all the way into the kitchen, as though someone with blood on their feet had walked inside. He reached for the blade in his back pocket- if anything, it was probably someone else she'd killed and dragged all through his house. Just the thought made him shudder, and he took a deep breath as he continued into the kitchen, not knowing what he'd find.

A first-aid kit was open on the counter, a large roll of gauze hanging over the edge and dangling on the floor. A bottle of rubbing alcohol was open on the dining table, its contents stinging Jess's nose, and he quickly rushed to close it. Then he looked around. Everything seemed to be in the right place, with the exception of the medical equipment, so where was she?

GRIMM groaned in pain as she rolled over on her side in the bed, clutching her arms and chest where the glass had ripped the skin. For hours, she'd been sitting in the darkened room, in the king sized bed that she knew probably belonged to Sundown. At the moment, God, she didn't care; she was in too much agony to give it a second thought. Whatever torture they could give her on Olympus had nothing on this burning sensation in her chest and upper arms.

She froze as she heard footsteps outside of the door, in the kitchen. Clutching the black blankets to her wounded chest, she slowly sat up and reached for her gun on the bedside table...only to find it had disappeared. Cursing in the darkness, she watched the feet under the sliver of yellow light separating her from the outside world, as her breath caught in her throat out of fear. Get it together, Grimm, she thought. You've taken on worse than this before. It's probably just some half-witted human- Sundown is still out protecting this city, right?

The door opened, and the silhouette of a tall man with broad shoulders appeared, and all the while Grimm stayed sunken into the black blankets, pleading with whatever gods would still listen to her that she wouldn't be found. The lights flickered on-a dim glow in a dark room, and with her pale skin Grimm stuck out against the gloomy color of the sheets.

Shit, She thought, I've been discovered.

THE girl that lay in his bed was unlike any woman Jess had seen before- her hair was several shades of black, brown, and light blond for an instant, as if the long hair flowing down her slim shoulders was a swirling artist's pallet, and after a moment it appeared to be a dark chocolate, rich and shining and waving gently down her back.

Her eyes were swirling, as well-not in the way that Acheron's did, but in a mysterious, hypnotic way of her own. Greens, blues, and hazels mingled in her irises, until they finally settled on a blue the same color as the Jersey Shore. Anyone could become lost in those eyes.

The body of the woman, mostly hidden by black flannel pants and a black NYU tank top was beautiful, too, but in a more classic way. She was not tall, or too thin, but had the reminiscent look of an old time pin-up star, with curving hips and a medium sized chest, a chest she clutched blankets to as she stared up at him.

"What are you doing in my bed?" He asked, not bothering with traditional introductions.

"Oh-I, well, I'm sorry, I just thought that-well, I'll leave now, if you want. Do you have a guest bedroom I can sleep in? This was just the first bedroom I saw, and I guess I just assumed…" She trailed off, biting down on her full, shell pink lower lip as a blush came over her attractive face. Her voice was light and pretty, with the slightest hint of an accent that he couldn't place, and as she spoke her bangs fell into those sea blue eyes of hers.

"Well, yeah, it's across the hall, a few doors down. You have anything else with you?"

"A suitcase and a duffel bag, but I think they're still outside," She whispered shyly, lowering her eyes. "Are they?"

"Well, since the place's gated, I reckon they are. Want me to get them?"

"Is it still dark?" She asked. He nodded. "Well, then, I'd appreciate it." He started off down the hallway, his long legs covering more ground than hers had, and Grimm watched him go with a bit of regret. He was, without a doubt, one of the most gorgeous men she'd laid eyes on-too bad he was forbidden. You've broken the rules before, A dark voice reminded her from somewhere in the back of her mind.

No, Grimm! She chastised herself. Bad Dark-Hunter! No!

She bit down on her lip until she felt the stain of red blood on its surface, and Sundown's voice echoed through the halls. "Now, can I ask you how you got in my house?"

"Yeah, I guess. I broke through the window." He paused in the hallway, turning back to face her. Well, she did destroy his window. He'd have to call Anna later, unfortunately, because she'd be waiting to hear that she was right.

"Are you hurt?" He asked, continuing to walk into the kitchen.

Grimm touched her wounded upper arms and chest, grimacing in pain. "I guess so."

"You sure as hell guess at a lot, but don't seem too sure about nothing." He said wisely, and Grimm frowned.

"I guess I do," she responded snidely, and he laughed, slamming the door and fetching the bags off the front porch. Good mother of god, what did this girl pack? Bowling balls?

He didn't even know her name and he was already criticizing her. "Hey, you, what's your name?"

She was now standing in the kitchen, next to one of the bar stools, and she looked as though she was uncomfortable with his question. "I've had a few names." Her voice sounded scratchy, and when she coughed, her voice became more hoarse.

"Need a drink?"

"Water, thanks," She said gratefully. Once she had her drink and had taken a few sips to sat down and looked up at him with those beautiful baby blue eyes. "Like I said, I've been known by a few names over the centuries."

He sighed, not wanting to ask about the whose 'centuries' thing, and sincerely hoping that she was not another Dark-Hunter as he gave her a weak smile. "Well, what are you going by now, little lady?"She muttered something he could not understand as she blushed pink. "What's that, now?"

"Grimm!" She shouted, standing up. "G-R-I-M-M GRIMM!"

The kitchen fell silent and eventually she sat back down, embarrassed. "You got a last name, miss Grimm?" He asked politely. She nodded, blushing.

"My full name is Grimm Rosary Sophia Capone. I was born on December 25th, 1901, in Chicago, and died when I was..." She trailed off.

"'Died'?" He repeated. "As in Dark-Hunter dead?"

"No."

He felt no need to ask about this, so he merely nodded. "You have a beautiful name, miss Capone."

"Call me Grimm. Or you can call me Sophie, if you want. I don't care. And thank you."

"So, when did you not Dark-Hunter die?" He asked as conversationally as someone would ask, 'What do you do for a living?'

"On December 24th, 1928," She replied. "What about you?"

"I did Dark-Hunter die," He told her. "On December 19th, 1889."

"Tell me, who is it that you see when you look at me?" Grimm asked him calmly. "I can tell that I am another person now, just by looking at your face. Well, I appear to be another person in facial features."

He was taken aback by her question, and he froze for a minute before he thought back to another time, a time when he was just a boy. He'd just turned 14, and was sitting on the porch waiting for his close friend, Marianne, as she prepared for a dance class her grandmother was forcing her to take. He tapped his hands along the wooden railing, playing out a rhythm that he'd heard many times but couldn't name.

"Well?" Said a voice from the dorway as the heavy wooden door opened. Jess turned and saw Marianne, her arms held tightly to her sides and a grimace on her pretty face, which was lightly sprinkled with freckles and accented with clear blue eyes. Her dark hair was pulled back into a bun with a pink ribbon, and her dancer's dress was pink with a pale pink trim. She hated the color pink.

He laughed when he saw her. "Well, don't you look cute!" He said. "You sure should wear pink more often."

"Jess Brady, you hush up now!" She'd snapped. "You don't know nothing about pink. It's stupid an' girly an' I hate it!" She'd finished her sentence just as her grandma Rose had walked out onto the old wood porch.

"You, girl, stop usin' language like that!" Scolded the wrinkled, grey haired old woman. "You get going to your class, and you better like it, 'cus it sure does costs enough!"

Her grandma was always complaining about money, and love, and politics in front of Marianne. Maybe that was why Marianne knew so much about the world around her, and why she was so bitter toward it. He couldn't really tell, since she didn't talk about stuff like that in front of him.

"Go on!" Rose boomed again to her grandchild and Jess. "Get!"

"Yes ma'am," Said Marianne meekly, lowering her head as she stormed down the stairs, Jess at her heels.

"And stop that slouchin'!" Bellowed Rose. Marianne straightened her back and began rushing like wildfire away from the large blue house on Des Monte street, up the road toward the Dance Academy on 3rd.

"I'm real, real tired of my Gamma," She shouted behind her, the lace shoes on her small feet looking as though they'd break above the pavement. Suddenly, she stopped, then leaned against the brick wall of the dance school.

"Promise me something, Jess," She'd said, panting and staying red-faced from the running. He nodded obediently, waiting for her to continue. "Promise me...that some day...we're gonna get out of this place. Just you and me."

"Where will we go?" He said, not bothering to argue with her. In a week or so, she'd forget.

"West!" She said, her blue eyes bright. "We could go west!"

"Where west?" He asked.

"Nevada, maybe. Or California, oh, my daddy and his daddy went there and got gold! Could you imagine that, Jess?" She'd, smiling. "If we could start a new life, a new family, just you and me? Away from my gamma and my momma and your momma, it would be great!"

"Yeah," He'd said, warming up to the idea. Life with Marianne wouldn't be so bad. "California."

"Well, thank you for bein' my escort," She'd said with a laugh, leaning forward to give him a kiss on the cheek. He looked shocked, and his hand flew to his cheek once she pulled away. "And I'll see you after class."

"Do you expect me to keep waitin' out here for you?" He shouted after her as she shut the door to the accadamy. He sighed and sat down on one of the benches outside, prepared to wait for Marianne for as long as it took.

JESS stared at the blank space on the wall behind her, and Grimm sighed, glaring up at him as she colapsed onto her forearms, which rested on the counter. She was used to this-any time she mentioned someone from the past to a Dark-Hunter, he or she either became unreachable or became angry. She had expected Jess to become angry, thus his reaction surprised her.

"Jess?" She asked in a sing-song voice, touching his arm. He jumped up, surprised, and gazed down at her. How did she know about-

"She lived until she was...27," Whispered Grimm. He stared at her and she continued. "Only a year after you did. She killed herself, well, she tried to, but actually she only ended up going insane after word of your death came to town. Eventually, she threw herself off the roof of her childhood home," She offered a tiny smile, "Because she missed you so much."

"I promised that I'd take her west with me when I left," He said, his voice thick with emotion,"But my mom was a heavy drinker. I couldn't take it anymore, so one day I just packed up, and tried to forget everything. I was twenty-four."

"And you got into crime." She said the words with knowledge of his past. "And died three years later."

"Yes, I did. But you don't understand, I-"

"She never believed that you could." Grimm laid a hand on his own, the only comfort she could offer him. "She still knew you as the sweet boy who used to walk her to dance class on Saturdays."

"How did you know that?" He snapped, pulling away from her. She pulled back, too, not willing to tell him the entire story of her past yet as she crossed her arms across her chest and leaned back against the bar stool.

"I am psychic," She lied. "I can see glimpses of your past in your eyes."

"My eyes are black," He said with a laugh, "And my past is just as dark, darlin'."

"But your future isn't," Grimm assured him. She reached out and touched a lock of his black hair, and he flinched visibly. "Jess, were you beaten as a child?"

"A bit," He admitted. "My dad, before he left, used to beat the crap out of my mom and would sometimes knock me around."

She remembered that. He'd told her that when they were teenagers, and she had been talking about her own mother and father- how her father and grandfather had died in a mine collapse only a year after she'd told him about them leaving for California and how her mother had killed herself a week later. By this time, she was used to meeting people she'd known in her past lives- sometimes in her line of work, sometimes in random places like the grocery store or in a bar. In fact, out of all the Dark-Hunters she'd met (Zarek, Kyrian, Talon, Zoe, Dragon, Acheron, Ravyn, and countless others.), she'd only never met two in a past life. If it was up to her, she wouldn't have even been born since her curse followed her everywhere and to any time, but hey, we can't have everything we ever wanted.

"So did mine," She whispered. "Well, my adoptive father. My real father gave me up for adoption when I was really little."

"Why?"

"He had a tough life," Grimm said, something that the family in the life she was so attached to had harped to her every time she asked. "He was a gangster in Chicago, and he decided that instead of subjecting me to that life he'd just...give me up."

"A gangster?" He replied. Then he thought back to her name. "Al Capone was your dad?"

"Yes, he was," She said shyly. "I was illegitimate."

"How did you die?" He asked.

"I got shot," She whispered. "Here-" She took his hand and moved it to her neck, which held a light pulse. "Here," Then she moved his hand to the back of her head, into her soft hair, "and right here." She moved his hand to the very middle of her left breast.

"Okay," He said as she removed her hand from atop of his. She coughed meaningfully and he snapped out of his daze, removing his hand, too. He blushed and lowered his eyes to the counter. "Oh-er, Sorry."

"It's fine," She said, bringing her eyes to meet his.

"Sophie," He said, using her name as a way of breaching a gap between them, "Who did you kill?"

"I...er..." She lowered her eyes now. "You'd hate me if I told you. I know you would." Everyone who knew did, she thought. Even Acheron. Well, there was really no change in that-he'd hated her for nearly 11,000 years.

"Try me,' He said with a dark smile. "I've killed a lot of innocents over a long, long period of time."

"I slaughtered my adoptive mother, adoptive father, three adoptive siblings, killed my father, and more recently my Squire." She hung her head in shame, and closed her eyes as she waited to hear Jess's reaction.

"How'd you murder Al Capone?" He asked. "I thought he died in prison."

"He did," She said, and since it seemed as though she was not willing to explain about how exactly she had murdered him. "And what about you?" She asked him.

"What about me?"

"Who have you killed?" He sighed, thinking back to his days as an outlaw.

"I don't think we have enough time to go through the list, Soph. Now, do you want me to show you to the guest room?"

"Yes, that would be fine," She told him, almost coldly. And she was angry-she'd shared a personal part of her history with him (Though she was still keeping a large part of her life a secret, since he'd think her insane if he knew the real story of her life) and he couldn't even share a small detail with her. What an ignorant ass he was.

Her glare, blue and as cold as ice, was burning a hole in the back of his head, it seemed, as he walked her down the hallway to the guest bedroom door. Turning to the side as to let her pass, he leaned against the light wall and watched her with unwavering black eyes.

"Tell me something, Grimm."

"What?" She snapped.

"Why are they prosecuting you for just the death of your Squire, if you killed all of those people?" He asked quietly. She froze, watched him for a moment, and then pulled him down by his shirt collar with both hands so that her mouth was mere centimeters from his ear. She could smell some spicey cologne that enticed her and she cleared her head by mentally shaking herself as she whispered,

"Well, then, I guess the Fates just hate me." She removed one hand from his shirt and opened the door to the room, keeping eye contact with him, and the she slipped inside before he could say another word. "Good night, Sundown."

SHE'D said the Fates as though she was Greek, though she claimed to be from Chicago. Jess sat on the edge of his bed, trying to forget about Grimm, though it was so very difficult to. She was in every crevice of his brain, every thought that he'd had since she'd slipped into her room three hours ago had been of her.

'Well, then, I guess the Fates just hate me.'

He ran a hand through his hair as he sighed, looking at his closed door, knowing that she was only a few feet away. He could always just go and ask her, though he knew that by giving her little about himself, it would be unfair to expect anything from her in return. Her anger earlier told him that much clearly. Suddenly, he had an idea, and shooting straight up into the air he rushed for his phone. Dialing one of the first speed dials, he listened to the monotone ring and laughingly wondered if AT&T had any towers close to Olympus.

"GODS, what is it?" Zarek snarled into the phone once he opened it, seeing JESS on the caller I.D. and not bothering with a simple, traditional 'hello'.

"Who are the Fates, Z?" Zarek was silent at his friend's tone, which was deadly serious. "I know who they are, but...what do they do, exactly? What is their job?" Zarek leaned over, surprised that the ringing had not woken up his wife, and touched her arm gently.

"Mmm...what is it?" She murmured sleepily, looking up at him with tired eyes.

"Sorry, but Jess wants to know about the Fates, and I think he should really know by now. It sounds like it's important. Can you talk to him about it?" A loud wail from down the hall alerted him to the fact that the shrill ring, while not succeeding in waking Astrid, somehow woke up Bob. "I'll go check on him."

He handed her the phone and she held it to her ear. "Good evening, Jess. What is it that you need to know about my sisters?"

"Hello, Astrid. Well, there's someone at my house, and-"

"It's a girl, and her name is Grimm, is it not?" She asked. "Well, the name that she is now going by. She claims to be psychic and claims to know about Marianne?" Astrid was one of the only people that Jess had trusted with the knowledge of his lost love-he was not even sure that Zarek knew about her.

"H-how did you know?"

"I sometimes listen to my sisters, if they're talking about someone I know. And they spoke of you, though gods know I can't say anything about it to you. Just know that there's light in your future." She smiled, sitting up in bed. "But that's another story. What is your question?"

"Have the Fates ever hated anyone?" He asked quickly. "Like, really, really hated anyone?"

She paused. "I'm afraid I don't understand your question," She responded.

"Well, from what I can see, the Fates hold quite a lot of order of Olympus. If they hated someone, how easy would it be for them to just...off that person?"

"'Off'?" She repeated.

"You know, kill. Get rid of. Curse," He offered. She gave a sharp intake of breath.

"I-I'm forbidden from saying anything about it!" She said quickly. "Ask Acheron, if you have to know."

"It's about someone whose life may end because of something the fates said," Jess responded. "I want to see if she's innocent. I have to know. But Astrid- do the Fates hold grudges?"

"Only two that I know of," She finally said. "One was against Acheron, their half-brother. And the other was against their other half-sibling, though this one wasn't accidental, like with Ash. This one was on purpose and meant to torture."

Zarek walked in on the last word, Menoeceus in his arms, and the baby tried to squirm out of his father's arms toward his mother as soon as he saw her. She smiled.

"I have to go now, Jess. Call Acheron and see what he can do for your house guest. And watch her closely-she may seem innocent,but there's trouble beneath even the calmest ocean. Understand?"

"Yeah," He said, lying. "I'll talk to you two later. Say 'hi' to little Bob for me."

"His name is Menoeceus," She corrected him. He laughed at this as he hung up, and Zarek set Menoeceus on the covers as he took back his phone.

"What did he want to know?" He asked. She shrugged.

Nothing much," She replied, taking her son into her arms. He stared up at her, his eyes bright, and his black hair warm and soft, and she hugged him close, thankful for the light and happiness he seemed to radiate. She kissed his forehead, her voice quiet as she asked him redundantly, "What have your aunties done, Menoeceus?"

He merely smiled sleepily and fell asleep against her chest, not bothering to let her know what thoughts he might have had on the matter.

"STUPID, stupid, stupid!" Grimm chastised herself, pushing the razor closer to a vein and harder into her forearm. "Why did you tell him that? Now he's going to know that's somethings wrong. You're such an idiot, you bitch." The voice that spoke was not her own, but the voice of a woman who would have been her sister, had she shown an ounce of kindness in her direction.

The blood slipped from a cut that should have slit her wrist and killed her, but as soon as the blood dripped onto the middle the piece of parchment held in her left hand, the cut disappeared and new skin replaced the cut space. She set down the razor on the coffee table, picked up the red BIC lighter from her backpack, held the paper aloft, then lit it on fire. The fire spread slowly over the faded yellow paper, which had the words MARIANNE WHITTAKER in bold, scripted writing embossed on it, and soon the entire paper was red with the tint of blood and slowly turning black. She reached for the bowl beside her, shook the ashes all into it, and wiped her and on the rim as to ensure to pieces were left behind. The pieces were then shaken into a glass half-full of Vodka that she had retrieved from the kitchen, and swirled together with a straw, which was then tossed to the floor as Grimm tipped back the noxious drink.

"O Fates, commanders of earth and all who dwell here, those who choose who lives another day and who perishes, give me some insight, however small, into the life of," She gasped as the drink hit the base of her throat, burning a hole there, a hole long resting. If she didn't say the name soon, she'd be trapped in oblivion until Acheron or one of the Fates retrieved her, so she shouted out quickly, "Marianne Whittaker!"

The winds holwed, ripping open the curtains of the room as a light shone through the windows and the fates appeared, if only for a moment, merely shaodws against the false daylight that hit Grimm's eyes. Their eyes glowing, they formed a circle around the pitiful girl, still only swirling shadows, and soon she joined the circle, too-standing, she took her place of honor between Atropos and Lachesis. Clotho watched her with pale eyes from across the circle, all silent. Finally, the Fate beside her spoke.

"You bitch!" Snarled Atropos in her ear. "You do not deserve our second sight."

"You and I both know that it is mine just as well as yours," Hissed Grimm to her. "And I completed the ceremony, did I not?"

"She is correct, Atropos, and we must honor this," Gravely agreed Lashesis,"Whose past do you wish to see, Dark-Gatherer?"

"Hunter," Corrected Grimm,"And I wish to see into my past life, the life of Marianne Whittaker, who died in Missouri in 1890."

"Whose body do you occupy now, Hunter?" Asked Clotho from the other side of the circle, which rested in a void that was once Jess's guest bedroom but was now a black, empty void. Grimm cleared her throat before she answered.

"I reside in my own body without soul, the body of Grimm Rosary Sophia Capone, who was born in 1901 and died a human death in 1929." She waited for the approval of her wish.

"Does it hurt to die a human death?" asked Clotho, sounding emotionless.

"The myth of immediate death is just that-a myth." She replied cynically. "Now, may I see into the life of Marianne Whittaker, who died in Missouri in 1890?"

"Why must you repeat this girl's full name when you speak of her?" Asked Atropos impaitiently.

"I asked you to put me in the place of the Oracle at Delphi once and you put me in the place of an old woman in Nice, France-I take no chances when dealing with you three." She laughed, then noticed that the shadow that consumed the Three Fates was slowly making its way up her waist. "Must I repeat my question, or do you have anymore inquiries for me?"

"So you have desired it, so shall it become," They whispered in unison, sounding ominous. "Be back in time or so you shall remain."

"So what?" Muttered Grimm under my breath. "I'd just die and then BAM, it's 1901 and I'm alive again. A second chance at not fucking it up."

They did not answer as the circle of light trapped inside of their circle opened and sucked Grimm inside, bathing her in glowing light as she faded into a blissfully unconscious state. The next thing she knew, she was awakening in someone else's bed, rubbing someone else's hands over someone else's aching eyes, looking out at the daylight of a new morning in 1890.

"MISS MARIANNE!" Someone shouted from downstairs, someone with a hispanic accent. Grimm sat bolt upright, pulled herself out of the bed, made it quickly, and rushed down the wooden stairs of the home on Des Monte Street.

"Yes, Wilma?" She asked her Spanish housekeeper. She was handed a letter upon coming into the kitchen, which smelled of all sorts of sweet and spice flavorings, flavors which were going into the dish Wilma was hard at work preparing. She tore open the envelope, sat down at the table, and began to read.

Well, at least she can read, Grimm thought as she scanned the letter.

The Wildflower Society of Modern Medicine

4358 Wallace Lane, Wildflower, Missouri

Dear Miss Whittaker,

We write to you to congratulate you on the event of your pregnancy, which we discovered by accident during a few routine tests. You are about two and a half months into your pregnancy, and are due on May thirteenth, eighteen hundred and ninety, and shall be transferred to one of our birthing centers before this time. If you would be so kind as to contact us, we will begin your regiment of vitamins and minerals to ensure that there are no dilemmas with your pregnancy.

We send our regards to both you and your husband,

The Wildflower Society of Modern Medicine

THE letter dropped from Grimm's hands like a rock, and as her mind spun, she felt flashes of the past coming back to her. Images that she would probably have not wanted the baby to see, but images that told her all one thing- it told her whose baby it was. He'd come back to Wildflower, only for a week or so, and when he left he told her that she couldn't go with him. For god's sake, she didn't know what he'd done for a living! But she'd been his best friend, and she'd given him her body, and so this baby was his.

She knew he loved her, he'd said so many times, but she couldn't believe him if he couldn't tell her the truth.

It had been only months, and now he was dead- god, he'd been dead for almost three weeks now- and so she had a baby in her stomach who didn't have a father. She'd lose her place in this town and she'd be considered a whore.

"Jess," She whispered his name like a curse, like some ill said word used for harming someone. She picked the letter up off the floor, stumbled back up the stairs, and slammed the door to her room shut behind her. Sitting down at her desk, she pulled out one of her favorite books and began to tear a piece of blank paper from the back, and then she pulled out a fountain pen from her desk drawer.

January 9th, 1890

Jess- I'm sorry. I know you're dead now, and that none of this is really your fault, that I have my own reasons for this. I just want you to know that I love you and that you were the light of my life, abet short. I hope that I'll see you in heaven some day, though I've been told those who take their own lives go to hell. Oh, well, I am willing to take this chance if it gets me away from here, away from all of these memories.

Yours in life as well as death,

Marianne

GRIMM remembered this now- she remembered how Acheron had told her that the townspeople had found her body, broken on the grass and rock below, the letter from the WSMM, and the suicide note she'd written to a dead man.

"He's still alive?" She'd asked him, when she'd asked about her last incarnation, at the age of five.

"No, he's not alive," He'd said quickly in what she now knew was a lie.

Acheron had always met her as a little child in each of her incarnations-before Marianne, she'd been a Russian dancer who came to the U.S. and was raped and murdered by her half-brother, Crezovic, on her 27th birthday. That was the real reason Marianne had been so cruel and hardened to the world, since as a child she'd been haunted by visions of a girl being forced into sex by a man she'd trusted.

Before Helena, she was the wife of a man charged with her child's murder during the french revolution, who commited suicide by stabbing herself in the chest with a dagger some time in the late 1700s. She was 27, and her story was told to Helena, whose story in turn was told to Marianne, whose story was told to Grimm.

Cherice's predecessor was a pilgrim girl, born in Roanoke and dragged off into the woods where the was murdered by her brother's friend, an Appolite, who tried to take her soul but was killed by Acheron before he could. The Appolite did, however, succeed in ripping out her beating heart.

Before Rosie's heart was torn out (literally) by an Appoliite, she was a young girl living in England in 1567. She became a theater actor's lover and was shot dead by his jealous wife in front of the two children borne to her by the promiscuous man, whose wife killed him later on after the girl was dead.

And before Claudia's deception and murder, she'd been a girl living in Florence in 1433, an assistant to an artist, who begged her to marry him and pushed her from a rooftop when she refused. Her body was discovered by two people who she had been living with-on their roof, thirteen years after her disappearance.

So on and so forth past Isabelle this line of death continued, until it reached far back into 9521 BC, with the story of Lilith, a young girl destined to do great things who was murdered in cold blood and forced into a curse so cruel and painful that her half brother took pity on her and helped with a small favor, telling her about the life before hers each time she relieved on this earth.

SHE'D lived this life before, and she knew what happened next- Marianne would leave the note in her room and she would walk down the hallway, her palms cold around the handle to the door leading to her grandmother's old room, a spacious attic with high ceilings and a tall window looking out at the street where she'd spent too many days to count walking and playing with her dearest friend, and slowly she'd ascend the creaking stairs, then walk across to the attic window with a purpose. Swinging it open, she'd take a deep breath, then pull herself up onto the thin sil, turn back to the world she knew, then close her eyes and surrender her weight to the weight of the world she was leaving. The echoing crack of her bones breaking would move through the thin walls of the house, as would the splitting crash as her skull cracked almost in two on a rock in her garden, and her hands would cover her stomach where Jess's baby moved no more.

Grimm blinked, then began to fight her host's wants vs. her own. If she died in this body, she'd be forced to start all over again. It would only be a moment of pain, then she'd forget everything she ever learned about herself to start again as little baby Grimm Capone, left on her father's doorstep on Christmas night in a little basket, but she was not willing to forget anything she'd learned. She was also sure that if she started again, Acheron would not take pity on her and she'd have just died on her 27th birthday, not return again as a Dark Hunter.

The thought of being reincarnated as a 50s housewife made her shudder.

"No!" She screamed. "Fates, help me!" Her voice still came out as Marianne's southern drawl, and she began to panic, clinging onto the doorway to try and stave off the suicide she knew was coming.

"Expel this demon who hath taken refuge in my body!" Screamed out Marianne. And in an insant, Grimm felt a pair of hands grab her arms and pull her upward, toward the ceiling, but she saw Marianne's body sill working, and saw her walking out the door, in the direction of her grandmother's attic.

Oh my god, Grimm thought as she faded once more into unconsciousness. It's really God, taking me out of Marianne's body.

"GRIMM! Oh, God, Grimm, are you dead? Please don't be dead! If you're dead, they're gonna kill me!" Jess shook her until he feared her brains might rattle. He's come into her room to speak with her and found her unconscious on the floor, a razor blade on one side of her, the Dark-Hunter mark on the small of her back surrounded by another more intricate tattoo visible and a bottle of half-empty Vodka on her other side. The lights had been out and the shades were closed, along with the window, and there was a circular burn mark on the beige carpet at the foot of the bed, and now he feared the worst.

He pulled out his phone, ready to call 911, until he backtracked and called Anna's cell.

"WHAT DO YOU WANT?" She screamed at him as she answered. "I WAS SLEEPING!"

"It's Grimm!" He shouted, his voice drowning hers out. "I think she OD-ed!"

"What- who's-" She fell silent. "Oh my God. Con Girl's commited suicide?"

"DON'T CALL HER THAT!" Screamed Jess. "Her name is Grimm. Spell it- G-R-I-M-M. And no, since she's a Dark-Hunter, I don't really know what happened to her."

"She's a Dark-Hunter?" Asked Anna. "Weird. Her presence didn't affect me."

He froze, then let go of the unconscious girl. "She hasn't affected me, either. Could Acheron have forgotten to tell us that?"

"It wouldn't matter if he had-we'd know, because we'd both be drained. Now, when does she leave for Olympus?"

"If she wakes up, she leaves next Tuesda-" He froze. "Anna, what do you know about the Fates?"

"That they're vindictive bitches," She responded with a laugh. "Why?"

"Who all have they held grudges against?" He asked.

"Millions," She snorted. "Why?"

"Anyone we know?" He asked. She fell silent.

"Acheron," She replied. "Didn't anyone ever tell you?"

"Yes," He said quickly. "I just...forgot, sorry."

"Also there's something about this chick named...well, it doesn't show her name, but it says her nickname was Fate's Doll. They'd get bored, kill her, and start again. I guess their brother, Apostolos, stopped their little dress up game and set F.D. out into the world. Since then, it says, she's lived more than 48 lives and died 47 deaths in 200 places or more. Oh, holy shit."

"What?" He asked.

"Sh- well, she's still alive," She said reluctantly, "And she's a Dark-Hunter," She whispered.

Suddenly, Astrid's words echoed in his head. "One was against Acheron, their half-brother. And the other was against their other half-sibling, though this one wasn't accidental, like with Ash. This one was on purpose and meant to torture."

Half-sibling. Fate's doll.

"Anna, how bad are the Fate's tempers?" He asked. "If, per se, their dad had an affair with someone they didn't like, and they found out she was pregnant, what would they do?"

Anna gasped. "Curse the baby!" She shouted, finally understanding him. "But what does this have to do with Grimm?"

"I think,"He said, sounding unsure, "That we just found the Fate's Doll."

"What are you going to do now?" Whispered Anna in awe.

"I think that I'm going to stay silent about it, but if she asks me if I know we might talk about it. I don't know if she'll bring it up, but if she does, well..." He took a shallow breath. "Oh, she's waking up. I gotta go."

"Good luck," She wished him, then he hung up. An instant later, Grimm stirred, and he threw the phone across the room to pick her up, holding her gently in his arms.

"Hey," He said soothingly., "Are you okay, Soph?"

"So tired," She groaned. "Bed. Sleep."

"Okay," he said, thankfull that she was even speaking. That she was even alive. "Yeah, you can go to sleep." He picked her up, set her on the blankets of the guest bedroom's queen sized bed, and then pulled the blankets over her shaking, cold body. As he turned to walk away, he heard her whisper,

"Sundown, come here." He obeyed, and she motioned for him to lean in toward her face. He obeyed this command, too, and then she grabbed his arms and flipped him over onto the bed. The shock registered in his brain after she'd made herself comfortable against his chest, wraping her arms around his waist. "Stay with me a little longer," Her voice sounded tired and on the verge of sleep, "Jessie." She laughed in an exhausted manner before her breath evened and he knew that she'd fallen asleep. He tired his best to sleep, too, but all he could think about was the beautiful young woman asleep in his arms. She was different-and he knew that she hadn't been trying to commit suicide. Astrid's words still echoed in his head as Grimm's breath blew across his chest, and he wondered for a fleeting second if Acheron knew anything about the other Dark-Hunter's past.

He wished he could get up, but he had no desire to disturb her slumber, so he made a silent promise to himself that he would call Acheron to ask about it when night fell again. Grimm moved her head away from him, and he heard the blood pulsing in her exposed throat. He shuddered, turned his head away, too, and thought of any sort of distraction he could, but his mind kept thinking back to all the times he'd yelled at Zarek for drinking human blood. Now, seeing this, he could hardly blame his friend for his actions.

He traced a small, light line across the side of her cheekbone, watching the pink blush come across it, watching her eyelashes flicker and her chest rise and fall while she dreamed whatever dream she was dreaming. He had the desire not to sleep with her-which was strange, because that was a notion that with a girl that pretty would have been instantaneous- but a desire to keep her protected, safe, and happy. She was small, for a Dark-Hunter, which was odd and disturbing to him. He couldn't see her fighting an Appolite anymore than he could have seen Marianne fighting the nearly invincible race. He immediately thought back to Marianne as soon as the notion crossed his mind-they did look alike, strangely so. Her hair fell in her eyes and they flickered for a second before she sighed, rolling over, and her eyes opened completely.

"This is awkward," She said, blushing.  
"What?" He said anxiously. "I-I'll leave if you want me to. I don't need to be here."  
"No, I mean that you're thinking a mile a minute and I can't keep up while still pretending to be asleep," She admitted with a smile. "What do you want to know?"  
"Who are you?" He whispered finally.  
"I am Grimm," She said calmly. "You know that."  
"Now, Grimm, we both know that isn't the whole story. Who were you a long time ago?" Her eyes locked gazes with his and flashed honey brown for a second, her hair whipping out behind her and melting into blond ringlets around her tan skin, before she turned back into the brown haired pale girl with blue eyes he knew, her lips parted slightly as she thought, her eyes now distant.

"I was born Lilith of Altantis in 9517," She said, "B.C."  
"Wow," He said, unbelieving. "Royalty in my own home. Should I be flattered or scared?"  
"Why should you be afraid?" She asked, looking confused.  
"Because you're crazier than Zarek-This proves it."  
Her head cocked to the side with a smile playing on her lips. "Zarek of Mosiea?" She inquired. He paused before nodding. "Oh, I knew he had not died. Oh, good."  
"Do you know Zarek?" He asked warily. She smiled, eyes happy.

"Mm-mm....yes," She said, "But not in the way you're thinking of. We were friends as children, when I was Lizabeth."

"How...how many people have you been, besides those two?" He asked, still wary.

Her eyes turned cold as ice and twice as angry as hell. "You know the answer to the question you ask, Sundown. But I suppose you did not know that I am still Lilith, somewhere lingering far down in my black heart. And you know that I was once the object of your desire, Marianne Whitaker. But she is gone. I am only Lilith and Grimm now," She said with a smile, "No relation to the brothers."  
"What?" He asked, confused.  
"Grimm Fairy tales, you-oh, never mind. But do you understand me?" He nodded quickly. "Now, will your mind give me peace while I sleep?" She asked, sitting up. He froze mid-nod, and then shook his head. She sighed. "What is it now?"  
"How did you die?" He asked.

"As whom?" She asked in return, eyeing him with emotionless, slate eyes. "Grimm or Lilith?"  
"Both, if you could tell me. But more as you," He touched her cheek, and her face flamed with color. "Grimm."

"This can be summarized with a quickly line from a musical," She said, beginning in a light soprano voice, "Oh, yes, oh, yes, oh, yes they both, oh yes, they both, oh yes they both reached for, the gun, the gun, the gun the gun oh yes, they both reached for the gun." She lowered her voice and her ashamed eyes to sarcastically mutter, "But he got there first, this time."  
"He being..."  
"My husband. The father of my daughter, Ella Rose. The bastard who raped me and shot me dead, leaving me in the back alley behind our apartment to die like a dog." She spat out the last bit then spoke his name with a curse and like a curse, the way she'd spoken it for nearly 80 years. "Levi. Levi Alexander Henson the second, son of the infamous Henson the Butcher of Chicago. He worked the docks and ate the flesh of his victims. Worse, he really owned a butcher shop, so for a few years the fine people of Chicago resorted to cannibalism." Jess winced.

"That," He said, "Is sickening."  
"I agree," Grimm said. "What's worse is that I knew about this when I married his son, and didn't think to ban him from seeing Ella. I-I came home from shopping one day and-" The events of that day came rushing back to her, as did the tears. "Oh God, Jess, she was only six. And so pretty, with her dark, curly hair and those wide, blue eyes. She had such a life ahead of her, mommy's little dancer did. She took lessons, too. She was so good at it. But that sick bastard, he-" She broke into full sobs by this time, and he stood from the side of the bed, walked around to where she sat, and pulled her into his arms. She smelled that same cologne again, and tried her best to stop crying. But she couldn't, not thinking about her little girl, raised in such a violent, sick family with violent, sick grandfathers, "Levi was raped as a little boy, by his father. I didn't think that he'd try anything with her, and I was foolish to even think that for a moment. He was just leaving-he pushed past me, a knife in his hands, something I didn't realize until later.

"I called for Ella, thinking that Levi was home, too. It was too silent. I walked down the hallway, listening to the steady drip of something on the wooden floor, thinking it might have been the pipes. I tapped on Ella's door, she had her own room by this time, a room she'd begged us to let her paint pink. There was splattered red color on the walls , the thing I noticed before I saw-" She broke off, sobbing louder. Jess held her tightly against himself, closing his eyes. He knew what was coming next, he could have guessed it. "That sick fucking bastard had murdered my angel. My little baby. She lay on her bed, looking to be asleep, until I pulled back the covers and saw the huge gaping chest wound and the choppy sawed work that remained of her little white nightgown, her new one. Her eyes were closed, looking peaceful and calm, but the neighbors told me they'd heard her screaming and crying earlier. I knew he hadn't been nice to her in her last moments, and the fact that her underwear lay on the floor, bloody and slashed, showed me exactly how much pain he'd put her through before finally sawing open her little chest. God, Jess, she was my baby. And I'd left her with him, thinking that I could trust him. He'd planned it, I know he had. And now she's dead," Grimm looked up at him, eyes glazed with tears. "I was a terrible mother. I would still be."  
"It wasn't your fault," He said sympatheticly, opening his eyes and smiling down to her. "I think you'd make a great mother, in my oppinion, and besides, what's done is done. The past can't be repeated. You've learned and you'll get another chance someday." He paused. "So what did Levi say?"  
"I don't know," She admitted. "He disappeared for a month and a half, along with his sick ass of a father. Finally, they found me." She smiled bitterly, pushed her hair back, or tried to, and continued. "Honestly, I'm surprised that they didn't find me sooner. I was staying with a friend, a mile or so away from my apartment, but I had to come back to get the last of our things...of Ella's things. I was just going to my friend's car when they cornered me in the back alley. I think I fought back well," She the smiled reminiscently. "Daddy taught me well. I always kept an M-80 or at the very least a knife with me at all times, and after Levi shot me in the chest I shot him back in the testicles. Oh, and then in the stomach-slow death," She explained with a grim grin, "Because the acids drip into the cavity and slowly poison the victim. But the last thing I heard, before I gave in to death again, was the voice of the son of a bitch who'd killed my angel. He pulled me up by my hair and hissed in my ear that he'd taken my little girl's feet from her body, something I'd not noticed in my grief. 'Because trainers always take the feet off their best horses before they're buried.' I spat in his face, and then with my last thoughts I realized that he'd been sexually assaulting my little girl for a while. 'Their best horses' he'd said, describing her.

"Then I woke again. My head throbbed and I had a burning sensation at the very base of my back and in my throat. It was a burning for revenge. I was not alone- Acheron was with me, and we were back inside of my apartment. He explained to me the rules- thou shalt not screw thy squire, thou shalt not drink the blood of the humans, thou shalt not get sunburned, yada yada yada. And them BOOM, I was off. You never feel empowered, Jess, until you can look at all the terrors of your world and say, _fuck you, I'm not scared of you. _Until you can walk the streets of Chicago at night with the purpose to kill, you ain't nothing.

"So I was set on finding that bastard's work house, his butcher shop. He and his wife-poor bitch didn't know nothing about it- lived above it. She was a little gold digger, a blond ex-hooker who he'd picked up only God knows where. She wasn't hard to kill, she'd been smoking a cigarette on their balcony, a little fire escape with a table and chair on it, and she leaned just a little too far over the railing for her own good. I guess the blow to the head with the chair and the M80 didn't help too much, either.

"He was sprawled, drunk, on the bed. I approached it, and he was so intoxicated that he thought I was that stupid wife of his. He tried to reach for me, and said her name. 'Carly,' I think it was. Yeah, Carly. I reeled away, pulling out the knife. 'She's dead, you bastard!' I'd shouted. 'You'll be joining her real soon.'

'Why?' He'd asked, not recognizing me. 'What did I do to you?'

'Killed me, you sick fuck!' I'd yelled, brandishing the knife. 'Give me back Ella's feet!'

It was only then that he recognized me, and he laughed, patting his stomach. 'You ain't never getting that cunt's feet back, bitch. They're all gone, just like her. Do you know how much she screamed? Begging me to go away. I didn't though, and now her feet are in me, just like I was in her. Innocent lost, bitch. The game is over.'

"I screamed at him, rushing at him with the knife, perhaps the very one he'd killed my Ella with. I didn't know and I didn't care. He couldn't fight me-he was stooped with age and I was strong and immortal. I did not give him the mercy of a quick death-he screamed, loudly. I'm surprised the neighbors didn't wake up, though in that neighborhood, they can block anything out, especially screams. I cut his chest open first, all the way down to his stomach, which I attacked next. I didn't want his blood-I wanted my baby's feet back. Her little feet, the only part of her still above ground, not in the little black casket, the casket covered by grass and a little angel on her tombstone, along with the date of birth and the date six years later.

The stomach acids had already destroyed her feet, they were gone. He screamed, damn, why had he not died yet? His heart was still beating, so I went to work peeling back his skin. Once I had finishedthis task, I ripped his heart out." Grimm paused and looked down at her thin, long fingers, then back up at Jess's astonished face. "With my bare hands. I threw it across the room, and I screamed. My baby was gone, but now so was her killer. I should have been happy, should I have not been?"  
"You deserved to be," Jess agreed. "I mean, you got the bad guy, I guess."  
"But I wasn't-I still blamed myself." She pushed back her covers to reveal thin arms and long red cuts criss-crossing over them. "And I still do."

"Oh, Grimm," He whispered, holding her tighter. A small tear, the first one he could remember in a long, long time, rolled down his cheek. "That's-"  
"A terrible story and fitting consequences," She finished. He shook his head.

"Terrible for a woman as strong and as beautiful as you are to have had to go through. I'm gonna always be here if you need to talk to anyone about stuff like this," He leaned down and kissed her gently, his lips barely touching hers as the tears from her eyes dampened his cheeks. Her eyes remained open, still crying, though her tears were subsiding with every passing second, and when he pulled away from her, her eyes were dry.

"Jess..." She looked up at him, eyes wide and voice muted. "No."  
"But-you and...I...just...what?" He looked almost shocked. "What?" He repeated.

"I'm not."  
"Not what?" He asked, now looking innocent.

"I am not allowing this to happen." She stood and straightened her clothing, standing at the foot of the bed with her hands on her hips.

"But-I-Grimm, what are you talking about...?" He blinked, still clearly confused.

"I'm not sleeping with you!" She shouted, then she clamped her hand over her mouth, not believing the words that had just left her lips. He stared, shocked, too.

"Oh, wow. Did you think that I was going to try to?" He laughed, sounding bitter. "I know better. You've got too many boundaries and we're not allowed to." He stood, stretched, and blew her a sarcastic kiss. "Good night, honey. See you in the morning." He strode from the room, slamming the door behind him, and then Grimm collapsed onto the bed, curling up against the comforter, and slowly the tears began to roll down her cheeks before they progressed into full-fledged sobs.


End file.
